The Call of the Open Range
The wild west wasn’t tamed by sitting still—it took courage to follow the horizon.
In a town where whispers dance with fear,
Three cowboys rode, their legend near.
With lassos spun like shooting stars,
They tamed wild storms and roared past scars.
Old Jake could rustle clouds from the sky,
With a drawl so smooth, it made cattle sigh.
He leapt from cliffs, his shadow a kite,
And carved the sunset with pure delight.
Then Billy, the sharpshooter, quick as the breeze,
Could hit a fly from a mile with ease.
Hed twirl his pistols like they were mere toys,
While outlaws trembled, stripped of their joys.
Last came the lad known as Pecos Pete,
Riding a whirlwind on his two left feet.
Hed outrun the dawn, his laughter a song,
In the heart of the West, where all dare belong.
Copyright © 2024 Randy Salars
All rights reserved
All rights reserved